A Brief Paws 3
by Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu
Summary: The full title is "A Brief Paws in the Seditious Life of Bail Organa." Focused around Bail and Leia Organa.


**Title:**** A Brief Paws in the Seditious Life of Bail Organa****  
****Author: Deja Vu**  
**Summary: This story follows the general format of my other two "A Brief Paws" stories, except it contains Bail and Leia Organa and is less humorous than the others. Also, due to the circumstances in this fic, "paws(/pause)" may not be the best word choice, but I wanted to keep the basic title.  
Rating: No language, no violence.**  
**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars, but this story is mine.**  
**Characters: Bail, Leia.**

* * *

Warning sirens blared all over Alderaan.

Bail Organa, who had fallen asleep in his chair while perusing some datacards, awoke with a start, his heart pounding at the sound of the klaxons. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he got to his feet and went and fumbled with the holovision, turning it to a local station.

There were no news anchors on the channel, nor was there any kind of program on at all. There was just a message:

_A celestial body is approaching Alderaan. It is not known if it is a moon, an asteroid, or some kind of man-made craft. It may collide with the planet. The worst is feared._

Bail knew in an instant what it was—the Death Star. The Empire had come to target Alderaan.

He closed his eyes, fearing the worst. Leia must have been captured, and the Death Star—which must now be operational—had been brought to Alderaan. The pacifist planet was to serve as a lesson to the galaxy—the tool of fear was now going to show the galaxy what it was capable of. The Empire must have wanted Leia to betray the Rebellion—but of course she would never do such a thing.

He turned off the holovision and walked quietly outside. He could see a few families gathered together, holding each other and looking up toward the sky.

He brought his gaze upward as well. His heart was crying out for lost time—he'd never appreciated the sun or even the grass beneath his feet like he was now. Soon, he would know them no longer.

Bail lowered his head and looked toward one of the families. A little girl was being embraced by her father, while her young mother was kneeling beside a boy—perhaps the girl's twin (Bail realized with a pang of sorrow that he'd never asked the children's age difference)—and was whispering to him that everything would be okay. They were together as a family, and that was what mattered.

Bail closed his eyes and fell to his hands and knees. He grasped at the grass, and it slid through his fingers. The dearest member of his family—Leia—was likely in the hands of the Empire, probably to be executed, if she hadn't been already. Both of them would die alone, having tried desperately to bring down this monstrous planet-destroyer, only to fail as it witnessed their deaths.

A few tears leaked out of his closed eyelids. He loved his adopted daughter so much—he wished he could be there with her, so that she wouldn't have to die alone.

He inhaled sharply, feeling a strange shifting in his body. It felt as if he were being wrenched—no, tumbling, perhaps—and he found himself wondering, _Is this what death is?_

And then all was still. He took in a deep breath and then realized what he was doing. If he were dead, surely he wouldn't be _breathing_.

He opened his eyes, only to gasp as he realized that something strange had happened. He was no longer on Alderaan; instead, he was in some enormous facility—like a ship built for giants.

Surprised at that thought, he squeaked fearfully. And then he widened as his eyes as he realized the noise he had made.

Looking down, he saw spindly pink arms and thin clawed hands. He whipped his head around toward his backside and saw a scaly tail. His breathing quickened.

He was a rat.

A _rat_. Or a mouse. Really, he wasn't sure, but—

What in space had happened? Was this some sort of strange reincarnation? Did the Death Star blow him into another life?

A big repetitive pounding reached his ears—which he knew must both be pink like his hands and tail—and he scurried to find a hiding place. Scurried. Because he was a rat. Blast!

Bail managed to get behind some sort of protruding support (it was difficult to tell exactly what things were from this low vantage point) and watched as the creator of the noise walked by. It was a Stormtrooper, which meant that he was indeed a mouse. Or rat. Something small, at least.

He pulled his hand up thoughtfully to pull at the hairs on his chin, having to brush past several whiskers to get there. Why was he here, and why was he like this? Was this the Death Star, or just a random Imperial ship? Perhaps a Star Destroyer?

There were weird grate things beneath him, and it was hard to navigate. No mission for the Rebellion had ever been _this_ strange. What exactly had happened?

Pondering the question, he started to pace, only to have one of his legs slip through a hole in the grate, which had him squeaking in pain. _Yowch_!

Bail tsked at his carelessness and managed to bring his leg back up. Scrabbling for a solid grip on the grate, he decided to watch the comings and goings of this area for a while. It wasn't like he had anything better to do, and maybe he could learn something.

Several minutes later, his heart nearly jumped to his throat as he saw a very familiar face being escorted by Stormtroopers.

_Leia_.

He nearly squeaked in joy, but he managed to contain his excitement so as not to bring the attention of the Stormtroopers to him. What was with this infernal squeaking, anyway?

The group walked past him, and he followed quickly and quietly, carefully navigating the grates beneath him. Fortunately, they didn't go very far before stopping at a door and pushing Leia inside. While one of the Stormtroopers removed his daughter's cuffs, Bail slipped inside and hid in a corner. Soon, the Imperials were gone, and Leia sat slowly down on the bench in her cell. Tears started running down her face, and Bail wanted to reach out and wipe them away.

He began to move toward her, making an inquisitive peeping noise. It caught her attention, and she looked down at him.

* * *

Leia hadn't known she could ever feel so bad. She had just seen her homeplanet—and her father—be blown from the heavens. She had also been informed that, due to her lie about Dantooine, she was to be terminated. Alderaan was gone, her father was gone, and soon she would be gone, too. She had wanted to buy time for the Death Star plans to get to Obi-Wan Kenobi—she trusted in the abilities of Artoo-Detoo more than any droid she had ever met—but now all she felt was despair. With as badly as things had gone, she had little faith now that the plans would get to the Rebels' hands.

After the Stormtroopers brought her to her cell and took off her cuffs, she sat down on the bench and began to cry. She felt such sorrow and hatred—perhaps it was best that it would all soon be over.

She heard a strange noise and looked down through tear-blurred eyes at the floor. There was a rat—or a mouse, perhaps—staring up at her. Recoiling, she started to lift her feet up in avoidance, but she set them back down when she saw it begin to back away. There was a strange look on the creature's face, one that was almost human. It looked as if it felt hurt that she was trying to get away from it.

Wiping her eyes with quaking fingers, Leia gave the rat a weak smile. Who was she to be denying the last chance she had to make a new friend? "I'm sorry," she said softly. "It's been a rough day."

The rodent squeaked quietly and tentatively started to walk closer to her.

"Come on," she said encouragingly. She had never been a very big fan of rodents, but she felt a sort of kinship with this one. It seemed they were both stuck in here, and if they remained they would both die. Perhaps the rat could escape, but if he was seen, he would surely be killed.

The rat came over by her legs and stood up on his haunches. She reached a hand down and picked him up, trying not to shiver at the feel of his little clawed feet on her skin. It was strange how this rat was so tame. Maybe he'd been one of the Stormtroopers' pets and had gotten away.

She set him down beside her, and he placed a small paw on her dress.

Leia chuckled. "Thank you for coming to brighten my spirits."

He twittered and made a strange nodding motion with his head.

"They just destroyed my homeplanet with this space station we're on," the young woman explained quietly. "And—and my father...They wanted to know the location of the Rebel base, and I told them it was on Dantooine. But that was too remote a target for their demonstration, and they decided to destroy Alderaan instead." She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, sighing. "I feel like I've let my father down."

* * *

Bail knew now what the phrase 'my heart was ripped in two' felt like. He wanted to speak—to tell his daughter that everything was okay, would _be_ okay somehow—but he didn't really know if it would—or could—be okay, and he couldn't speak even if he wanted to. At least if he could _talk_ he could tell his daughter how proud he was of her, how much she had followed unknowingly in Padmé's footsteps, how proud that strong woman would have been of her if she were still alive—

He pulled on her dress with a small paw, making chattering noises and trying somehow—_somehow_—to let her know that she shouldn't despair. She'd done all she could, and that was all that they could ever do.

The young woman smiled down at him, but it was a bittersweet smile. "I didn't know that the last time I talked to my father, I would be saying goodbye. I knew it would be dangerous, but I never imagined this..." She looked at him warmly and said in weak amusement, "I guess it's just time for me to leave the rat race, hm?"

He tried to groan, but it came out as a squeak.

"So, that wasn't funny at all," Leia commented with a chuckle. "But small tails tell no tales."

Bail resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Since when had Leia developed such a wordplay streak?

She was back to being sober. "I sent a droid with the Death Star plans to find Obi-Wan Kenobi and then go to my father. If they did reach my father, then the plans must have been destroyed with Alderaan. If they didn't reach him, they have no way of knowing where the Rebel base is...And I can't tell them because I'm about to be executed. Things can't get much worse."

Bail released a small rat-sigh. Trying to give some comfort to his depressed daughter, he rubbed his head against her leg, surprised that the motion actually felt good. There was a little itch right behind his ear—

Leia reached down and scratched his head, as if she'd somehow known exactly what to do. The pair of them _had_ always been rather in tune with each other, and the knowledge that their connection would soon be gone saddened him.

"I miss my father so much," she said softly to him. "How could he be dead? He—he helped the Rebellion so much—was the reason it started, really—and he helped me become who I am today. I can't even avenge his death, and I fear he will have died in vain." She sighed. "And now _I'm_ going to die, not even able to tell him how much he meant to me—how much I loved him—how, even though I was adopted, I loved him like my real father—how...he _was_ my real father. You know, not _once_ did I ever want to learn anything about my biological father—because I never needed that man who merely brought me into being. I just needed Father—hero of the Rebellion, traitor to the Empire, and guider of my footsteps."

If Bail had been in his human form, he would have probably started crying out of love for his daughter and sorrow for her heartbreak. But rat bodies didn't work like human bodies, so he settled with putting his hands on her side and looking up at her in as serious of a rodent face as he could muster. He was so proud of his daughter.

The young woman—for she was a woman now—when had that happened?—brought down a hand to gently touch his head. "Thank you," she whispered to him. "It feels good to get all of that out. I guess I just needed a little company to make myself feel better." She took in a deep breath, regaining that inner strength that was such an important part of her. "I think I'm going to take a nap now," she told him. "There's no sense in just _waiting_ for the end...I'm—I'm sorry I don't have any food, or I would give it to you."

He chattered at her, wanting her to know that it was okay. Even though his belly _was_ feeling empty, he didn't mind in the slightest. Just being here with his daughter was the only thing he wanted.

Bail moved out of the way so his daughter could lie down. She would miss him up to her dying breath, he knew, but at least he'd been able to help her get through her grieving. And he, too, had been able to release pressure that he hadn't realized had been building—he felt strangely content.

Perhaps the Death Star wouldn't be destroyed anytime soon, but he had faith in the Rebellion. Even without him and his daughter, the Rebellion would live on. Somehow, the Rebels would find a way to destroy that monstrosity. He knew they would.

He jumped down off the bench and went to a corner by the door, where he sat and looked up at his sleeping daughter. She really did look like Padmé.

At some point, he must have dozed off, for he awoke to the sound of the cell door opening. A Stormtrooper entered the cell, and Bail was certain he felt his heart stop.

He wanted to jump forward—bite at the Stormtrooper's knee through a chink in his armor—do _anything_ to save his daughter. But it would be of no avail, he knew. One small rat could not stand up against a Stormtrooper several times his size.

The Stormtrooper remained standing in place, staring at Leia in an odd way, and Bail found himself struck by the strangeness of the situation—why was the Stormtrooper alone? Shouldn't there be more Imperials present? Leia _was_ a high-priority prisoner.

His daughter awakened and sat up. She wasted no time in quipping: "Aren't you a little short for a Stormtrooper?"

Bail wanted to laugh at that comment—his daughter was witty to the last.

The Stormtrooper seemed confused by her question. "Huh? Oh, the uniform!" And then he took off his helmet and said eight simple words that changed everything: "I'm Luke Skywalker. I'm here to rescue you!"

The twins quickly exchanged several more words—all the while, not knowing of their relation, not knowing their great importance to each other—and Bail wanted to smile at young Luke's resemblance to Anakin—the Anakin that had been before Palpatine had twisted him to the Dark Side. Knowing the Skywalker penchant for a proper (if complicated) rescue, Bail felt that good fortune had finally swung his way. Leia would live—Luke had the Death Star plans—Obi-Wan was still alive—and the Death Star would be destroyed. Soon, all would be right in the galaxy.

The siblings exited the cell in excitement, leaving Bail behind. He closed his small rodent eyes and lowered his head. He could finally rest at peace.


End file.
